That night, I couldn't sleep, so I pulled out Mom's letter and read it again.
*"I hope you get to feel the moments that made me happiest."*
I turned those words over and over in my mind, and for the first time, I found myself thinking back to the moment I'd made the Contract with the forest. *"You will place your most precious emotion here."* That had been the condition. What emotion had I placed there? Probably longing. Longing for Mom, and longing for the version of myself that had once been happy.
But something strange had been happening. As the days in the forest accumulated, that longing had been quietly shifting into something else. Something closer to anticipation. What would I cook tomorrow? How would Walnut be waiting for me? Would the little cloud bird's wing heal enough for it to fly?
I fell asleep thinking about all of that.
The next morning, I headed to the forest earlier than usual. The weather had warmed considerably, and the air had a soft, settled feeling to it. Walking the forest path, I noticed something different from the day before. Spring had fully arrived. Pale green buds were unfurling along the branches, and wildflowers I didn't know the names of were poking their heads up everywhere.
When I reached the clearing, Walnut and the little cloud bird were nowhere to be seen. That was odd. Walnut was usually there before me, already waiting. I sat on a rock and gave it some time. But no matter how long I waited, that small red tail never appeared.
*Something must have happened.*
I left the clearing and walked deeper into the forest. Following the sound of running water, I came to a small stream — and there I saw something that stopped me in my tracks.
Walnut was there. And beside Walnut was... a person? No. Something like a person.
It was a tiny figure, no bigger than a palm. Translucent wings, light and delicate as a dandelion seed drifting on the breeze. It was unmistakably a spirit — the kind you'd only ever seen in picture books. A small flower spirit.
"Oh..."
A soft sound escaped me before I could stop it. The spirit spun around at the noise. I expected it to startle, but instead it lit up and came floating straight toward me, shimmering with what felt like delight. Walnut swished his tail and looked up at me.
The spirit hovered right in front of my face and made a tiny sound. At first I couldn't make out anything at all. But the longer I listened, the more I felt something being passed to me — not words exactly, but fragments of feeling and image.
*Rain... water... earth... help...*
I looked at the spirit's glimmering wings and asked carefully, "Is there... something I can do for you?"
The spirit nodded vigorously. Then it turned and began to fly ahead. I followed alongside Walnut, moving deeper into the trees. Soft moss cushioned each step, and light filtered down through the leaves in shifting pieces, lighting the way.
We didn't walk long before we arrived at a small hollow in the forest floor. It was noticeably drier than the surrounding area. The soil had cracked, and tiny flowers were wilting where they stood. The spirit circled above them, flickering with something that felt like grief.
*Rain... hasn't come... but it's spring...*
I understood. The spring rains hadn't reached this spot, and the earth had dried out. The spirit was worried. And Walnut — I realized now — must have deliberately stayed away from the clearing to bring me here.
"Can I... make it rain?"
Honestly, I had no idea. I was just a cook. Not a miracle worker, not a magician. But looking at the spirit's desperate eyes, I couldn't bring myself to turn around and leave.
"I'll try what I can."
I reached into the Void Pantry and pulled out a small pot and a camp burner. Then I began taking out the ingredients I'd brought from home, one by one. The spirit drifted curiously around me. Walnut had already settled onto a nearby rock, watching in quiet silence.
"I don't know any recipes that summon rain, but... maybe I can make something comforting."
I started brewing a warm tea — a few herbs that seemed to hold a kind of moonlit shimmer, and a spoonful of honey. Lavender and chamomile from the Void Pantry, and one small petal the spirit offered me, which looked like it had fallen from its own wing. I let them steep together slowly.
While the tea brewed, I carefully poured a little water over the cracked earth. I had a few bottles of water in the Void Pantry. I went slowly, deliberately, soaking the ground bit by bit. When the tea was ready, I poured it into a small cup and set it on the rock.
"Let's wait for the rain together."
The spirit settled gently onto my shoulder and watched the tea cool. Walnut rested his chin on my knee. I tilted my head back and looked up at the sky. Not a single cloud. *Will it really rain?*
Time passed. I shared the tea with the spirit and poured the rest of the water into the earth. The sun had begun to lean toward the horizon. Then, suddenly, Walnut's ears pricked up. He lifted his head toward the sky and let out a small, soft cry.
When I looked up, a small cloud was drifting in from far away. It grew as it came, spreading until it covered the whole sky. And then — one drop, two drops — the rain began to fall.
"Oh..."
I turned to the spirit in disbelief. It was glowing, shimmering with what could only be joy. The drops came faster, and the dry earth soaked them up gratefully. I quickly tucked the burner and pot back into the Void Pantry and ducked under a large tree. Walnut curled into my arms, and we sheltered there together.
The spirit danced through the rain. Droplets struck its glimmering wings and scattered into dozens of tiny rainbows. I watched without moving. Something in my chest stirred, quiet and full.
*I actually helped.*
Being needed by someone. I had forgotten, for a long time, how overwhelming that could feel — in the best possible way.
After the rain stopped, I walked home. My clothes were a little damp, but I felt warmer than I had in a long time. The spirit perched on my palm one last time to say goodbye. *Thank you, Cook.*
I laughed a little at that. *Cook.* But honestly? It wasn't a bad thing to be called.
That evening, I left a small thermos on the doorstep of my neighbor Suhyeon's house. The same herbal tea I'd brewed in the forest. I tucked a note under it.
*The spring rain finally came, so I made some tea. Hope it warms you up. — Mina, from next door.*
Later, through the window, I caught a glimpse of her finding the thermos and smiling to herself. I watched from behind the curtain for a moment, then quietly went to bed.
*What will the rain-soaked forest look like tomorrow? And Walnut, the little cloud bird, the flower spirit — will they all be okay?*
I had people to worry about now. More than I'd expected, and somehow that felt exactly right.